


An Amaranthine Idolatry

by gravityfaller



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-28
Updated: 2016-06-27
Packaged: 2018-05-03 18:38:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 12,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5302514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gravityfaller/pseuds/gravityfaller
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Every year before Dipper and Mabel Pines' birthdays, Bill Cipher seems to find a new way to wreak havoc.  But the days leading up to the twins' sixteenth birthday cause Bill's tricks lead to more than Dipper bargained for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Trepidation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The sounds of this small town make my ears hurt  
> Oh yeah, you caught me. But I caught you one worse  
> They say, "You want a war? You've got a war."  
> But who are you fighting for?  
> The tides out, the ship's run aground  
> We drown traitors in shallow water

The hot sun shined brightly onto the boy’s back, and he wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. He groaned with frustration and stood up, stretching his back after having been bent down for hours chopping logs for the fire.

“Dipper!” called a familiar voice from the Mystery Shack, the place where he and his sister were staying for the summer. He rolled his eyes as his sister, Mabel, came running out into the grass near him.

“What is it now?” he asked with a smile. She grinned widely, and Dipper couldn’t help but smile wider along with her.

“Guess what day it is?” Mabel asked, biting her lower lip. There was a moment of hesitation in the air before the date dawned on Dipper. Could it really nearly be the end of summer? His smile faltered, and he sighed slowly.

“Right,” he replied. “Our birthday.”

“Not just any birthday,” Mabel boasted proudly, but Dipper felt a familiar squeezing sensation in his chest. His breathing seemed shallower, but he blocked it out and tried to focus on Mabel’s words.

“Oh?” he asked in a strained voice, though Mabel didn’t seem to notice.

“It’s our sixteenth birthday, Dipper! We’re gonna be able to drive, and stuff!” Dipper chuckled at his sister’s words, knowing very well that there was no way she could possibly get her license in three days, but the panic in his chest still ached.

“Right, right,” he muttered, turning away from her just long enough to take a few quick, shaky breaths. He returned his attention to the logs before him, but suddenly his motivation was lost.

 _Dammit_ , he thought, his eyes struggling to focus. He stood abruptly, turning once again to face his sister. “Hey, Mabel?” he said quickly, gulping. Mabel suddenly snapped back to reality, noticing the furrowed brow of her brother.

“Waddup, bro-bro?” she asked, wringing her hands together. A look of worry swept over her eyes, and Dipper quickly faked a smile.

“It’s nothing, I think I just have a splinter,” he assured her, hoping his lie was enough to fool her. Luckily, caught up in her own thoughts, it was. Dipper walked briskly away from the yard, nearing the back door into the shack.

“I’ll be in my room,” he called as he slammed the screen door. Within seconds he bolted up the stairs, ran into the bedroom his great uncle Stanley was allowing him to occupy for the summer, and sat down right in the center. Ever since the summer he had first come here, he was terrified of his birthday.Every single summer, he and Mabel came to Gravity Falls to visit. And every year, the days leading up to their birthday, a familiar entity terrorized them.

Luckily, for Dipper, Mabel hadn’t experienced these terrors the way her brother had, and he was grateful that her spirit wasn’t yet broken. But as he sat in the middle of his temporary bedroom, curled up and shivering, he wished that Bill Cipher would leave him be this year.

 

The cold air blowing through the open bedroom window woke Dipper from his sleep. Alarmed, he sat up, taking a few seconds to remember and process where he was—on the floor of the attic in the Mystery Shack. He glanced groggily at the clock on his end table and groaned when it read 9:05. Shivering from cold rather than panic, he stood slowly and walked towards his bed, grabbing the navy blue jacket lying across the sheets. He pulled it over his tee shirt and zipped it up, taking a moment to ready himself before tiptoeing out of the room, down the stairs, and out the front door.

When the cool outdoor air hit him, a slight smile broke across his face. This was the familiar feeling of a place he was happy to call his second home. He knew he should be scared, whether it be of Bill or of the creatures lurking in the dark forests, but he wasn’t; he was simply content. He cut across the dirt path leading into the road and instead wandered to the edge of the forest, wandering in between trees separating the cars’ path and the depths of the forest. He couldn’t contain his sudden burst of joy—he bit his lower lip and grabbed a thinner tree, spinning around it a few times before reaching out for another and repeating the process. He could have stayed there for hours, weaving between tree after tree.  Chuckling to himself, he eventually stopped to assess where he was.

That was when the anxiety set in.

The dark, mysterious fog was too thick now to see any more than ten feet in front of him, and he wondered when it had formed. A yelp hovered on his lips, and he was ready to run at the first sign of danger. He looked around slowly at the creeping fog, getting thicker and thicker still. The moon shone dim, yellow light around him, and the trees cast unfamiliar shadows. This was not the comforting cold Dipper loved, but rather the chill that froze his bones and made his legs shake profusely.

He parted his lips slightly, about to call out the name he hated to even think, let alone speak. Running a hand through his hair, he closed his eyes and began to mutter to himself. “Bill, I know it’s you, now could you _please_ —"

A sudden crack of a tree branch on the ground caught his attention, and Dipper whipped around to find the source. A dark, looming silhouette of a figure neared him, and he was frozen with fear. His brain screamed at him to run, but he was planted there, in the forest, staring into the eyes of some creature.

“Hey,” it said in a high-pitched voice of a boy. “Nice to finally meet you, Dipper Pines.”


	2. Reconcile

Dipper stared into the eyes of a tall, thin boy, and yelped.  The boy reflected his fear, jumping back with surprise.  “How do you know my… who are you?” Dipper asked, trying to recover from his shock.

“You—I—uh—” began the boy, clearly startled.  Dipper’s face quickly fell into a look of concern, and he let his guard down.

“Hey,” he said warmly.  “I’m sorry about yelling.”  He smiled, and the boy returned a timid grin.  After a slight pause, Dipper’s senses kicked back in, and his eyes widened.  “Oh!  I totally forgot to ask… what the hell are you doing out in the woods in the middle of the night?”

This time, the boy laughed, his floppy brown hair falling into his hazel eyes.  “First off, it’s nine thirty,” the boy said with a smirk, “and secondly, we’re about three minutes away from the rest of the town.”  He gestured to a point behind him, and as Dipper peeked around a tree and saw the bright lights of a settling city, he blushed.

“Whoops,” he finally said after staring at the town for awhile.  “Lost track of where I was going, I guess.”  The boy cocked an eyebrow at Dipper, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth once more.

“And where, exactly, _were_ you going?” the boy asked, causing Dipper to blush even harder.  He quickly looked down, unzipping his jacket despite the freezing cold just to have something to distract him.

“Good question,” Dipper replied, finally glancing up at the boy.  “You still didn’t answer mine, though.”

The boy eyed Dipper’s sweater, and Dipper suddenly realized that the boy was wearing nothing but a black tee shirt.  “Do you want this, er..?” Dipper began, pulling the jacket off of his body.

“Dillon,” the boy quickly replied before reaching for the jacket.  “And thanks, kid.  Usually I wouldn’t take something like this from a stranger, but… well, you’re no stranger.”  The pair shared a chuckle, though Dipper’s forced laughter seemed to resonate somewhere deep in a void in his chest.  Thinking back to that summer before high school, the reason why Dipper Pines became such a common household name in this town, made him feel a gaping sadness.  That was the summer when he nearly died.  That was the summer when his Great Uncle Ford was killed.

Dipper smiled up at Dillon, who nodded his head in the direction behind Dipper.  “C’mon,” he muttered, grabbing Dipper’s wrist.  “You’re staying at the Mystery Shack, right?”

Dipper pulled from the boy’s grasp quickly, staring at him.  “I…” he began, unsure of what to say.  Of course he was—he was Dipper Pines.  But he felt a strange, unusual feeling when he spoke to this boy.  He felt… different.

“Yeah,” he finally choked out, and Dillon smiled once more.

“No need to worry.  The least I can do is walk you home after you lend me your jacket,” Dillon said absently as he began to lead the way, cautiously reaching for Dipper’s wrist once more.  This time, Dipper allowed himself to be dragged down the forest, smiling, glad to finally walk this lonely path with a friend for once, even if they had hardly met.

They arrived at the Mystery Shack only ten minutes later, and Dipper realized how slowly he had walked before he and Dillon met in the forest… whatever Dillon was doing in the forest…

“Hey,” Dipper said as Dillon took the jacket off to hand it to Dipper.  “You never told me _why_ you were in the forest.”

Dillon turned suddenly, sweeping a hand through his hair, and clutched Dipper’s hands as he placed the jacket in them.  Dipper met his eyes, and for a moment the fog seemed to swirl not only around them, but inside of his head.  “What was that?” asked Dillon, pulling Dipper from his haze.  Dipper shook his head, trying to clear his mind.

“Man,” Dipper finally said dumbly.  “And I thought _I_ was tall.”  Dillon chuckled before pulling away from Dipper.  He began to walk down the road when Dipper worked up the courage to call out his name.

“Dillon!” he called, desperately hoping not to disrupt the others inside of the Shack.  “Do you need a ride home, or something?”  Dipper knew he wasn’t legally allowed to drive anyone anywhere with his permit, but that hadn’t stopped him the rest of the summer—he was still a better driver than nearly all of the adults in Gravity Falls.

Laughter came from a few feet away, though Dillon was masked by fog.  “I’m sixteen; I can drive myself if I have to!  But thanks!”

And with that, he was gone.  Dipper stared after him for a few seconds, his breath forming visibly in front of him, before a lopsided grin broke out across his face, reaching up to his eyes.  “Me, too,” he whispered to himself before turning to the door, shutting off the porch light, sneaking up the stairs past the family still gathered in the living room, and climbing into bed.


	3. Familiarity

“Where were you last night?” came the voice of Mabel from the doorway of Dipper’s bedroom.  He groaned and raised his head from his pillow, only partially conscious.  A groan escaped his lips as he felt a dim sunlight peeking through the open window, followed by chilling winds.

“What are you talking about?” he asked, beginning to sit up, when he stopped dead in his tracks, recalling the night before.

“I’m talking about you getting in bed at ten at night,” Mabel said with a smirk, walking into the room and sitting on the edge of Dipper’s bed.  She ran a hand through her hair and looked out the window quizzically.  “Who was it?” she finally asked.

“A person,” Dipper mumbled, feeling a slight blush beneath his skin.

“A girl?” Mabel asked, turning to look into Dipper’s eyes.  She raised her eyebrows, ready to tease her brother.

“No,” he answered honestly, staring back at her innocently.  She squinted her eyes, searching for a lie but not finding one.

“Okay,” she finally said.  “Hey, Stan’s making pancakes.  You should come downstairs before they’re all gone.”

Dipper yawned, collapsing back onto the pillow.  “Yeah, yeah,” he replied.  “Just a few more minutes…”

The bed was solid; cold; metallic surfaces scratched Dipper’s back, and his eyes jolted open quickly.  A gray, monochrome tint casted over everything, and Dipper bit his lip, his heart rate increasing rapidly.

“Well, well, well, Pine Tree,” came an all too familiar voice.  “Look what the apocalypse dragged in!”  Dipper looked upwards quickly to see a small, yellow, triangular demon floating above him.

“Bill,” Dipper said in an annoyed tone.  “What do you want _now_?”

“Nothing, kid!” replied the demon.  “Although I do enjoy it when your eyes are all bloodshot like that.  Really pays homage to your lack of sleep, ya know?  Which reminds me…”

Bill suddenly grew, yellow glow turning red, and stared into Dipper’s eyes.

“Why haven’t you been sleeping, Pine Tree?  Afraid to see your old pal?”

He shrunk back to his normal size and color, adjusting his top hat as he waited for the boy’s response.

“I have other priorities, you know,” Dipper said with a frown, his mind wandering idly to Dillon.  Bill snapped to attention, suddenly larger.

“What, that _kid_ from down the road?  Come on, live a little!  You have no idea the things I have in store for you this summer.  I think it’s my best game yet!”

Dipper’s eyes stung as he thought back to last year, when he broke his arm and wore a cast for two months, and the year before, when Mabel and Soos got trapped in Bill’s dimension for a week… and of course, the year before that, when Stanford Pines was killed…

“I don’t want to play your fucking games,” Dipper choked out, and with that, Mabel shook him awake.

“Did you fall asleep again?” she asked, a look of concern streaking across her face.

“Oh, yeah,” Dipper said weakly before clearing his throat.  “Sorry.”  He paused a moment, taking in his sister’s facial expression.  He considered telling her about Bill, but decided against it, instead worrying about a more pressing issue.  “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Mabel said, all looks of panic now wiped clean from her face, and Dipper smiled a half smile.  Of course, it was nothing compared to the smiles he gave when he had met Dillon.

“Hey,” Dipper said, hopping off of the bed.  “Race you downstairs for Stancakes?”

Mabel smiled brightly and turned to run down the stairs, her short hair blowing quickly behind her.  Dipper walked briskly to the doorway and down the stairs, nearly catching up to her thanks to his long legs.

“Beat you!” Mabel yelled in triumph as she slid into the kitchen, nearly knocking over the table Stan was placing the pancakes on.

“Whoa, there, kid,” he said with a smile, placing the pancakes on the counter instead.  Mabel smiled apologetically, and Dipper rolled his eyes, grabbing a pancake from the stack and beginning to eat it.

“Ew,” Mabel said, pulling a plate out from the cupboard.  “Use a plate, at least.”

“Plates are useless,” Dipper called, mouth full, as he walked into the gift shop.  He chuckled to himself as he turned into the gift shop, not caring that he was in his pajamas since most of the town knew him closely already, and the rest being tourist that he hardly cared about.

“Hey, Wendy,” he called, waving to get her to turn from the counter.

“Just a sec, dude,” she called back, smiling at the boy behind the counter.  Dipper rolled his eyes and walked towards her, mouth open, ready to ask her a question.

He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw a familiar face at the check-out counter.


	4. Predilection

“Well, well, well, if I’d have known that today was Casual Friday, I would have put a lot less effort into choosing my outfit this morning,” came the sweet, mocking tone from the boy at the check-out counter.  Dipper blushed, growing redder and redder as he realized he was still in his pajamas.

“Hey, Dillon,” he replied weakly, walking towards him.

_I wish I had showered this morning_ , came his irrational thoughts.  _Did I put on deodorant?  Don’t get a boner.  I hope my breath doesn’t smell like pancakes... Why am I blushing?  Don’t get a boner.  What’s wrong with me?  Oh, great, I’m sweating.  Don’t blush this hard, Jesus.  Don’t get a boner.  Don’t get a boner.  Don’t get a boner._

“And here I thought our paths would never cross again,” Dillon said sweetly, pulling Dipper in for a hug.  Dipper bit his lip and hugged the boy back, an odd sensation sweeping his body.  He knew this was strange... he didn’t like boys, did he?

“I know,” Dipper said with a laugh, neither of them letting go.  Dipper closed his eyes and breathed in the scent of the older boy, feeling himself grow slightly weaker in his arms.  He quickly straightened up and pulled away from the hug, only to look into the bright, expectant eyes of Dillon.

_Don’t get a boner, don’t get a boner, don’t get a..._

Too late.  Dipper smiled back at him, hoping desperately that the boy wouldn’t look down.  Dillon, to Dipper’s gratitude, was extremely clueless as he grabbed Dipper’s wrist and smiled at him.  His smile was friendly—toothy, warm, and open.  No one else he knew smiled like that, except maybe Mabel.

“Hold up just a sec,” Dillon said to Dipper before turning to Wendy at the counter again.  “I’ll have to take a rain check,” he said to the redhead, who only smiled and nodded before taking the hat from atop the counter.

“You can just take this, you know,” Wendy replied, throwing the hat at the boy.  Dillon managed to catch it in his free hand, smiling sheepishly at Wendy.

“Thanks,” he muttered, putting the hat on his head.  Dipper’s eyes widened as he noticed that it was identical to his own, except the primary color was gold, not blue.

Without warning, Dillon pulled Dipper swiftly out onto the porch, chuckling as they sauntered down the stairs and onto the lawn.  Dipper felt his heart racing faster, and he knew it wasn’t from running.  They were _holding hands_.  Lost in his own mind, Dipper smiled an awkward half smile, praying his Boner would disappear soon.  Suddenly, his knee buckled, and he fell, taking both of them down.  “Aghh!” Dipper yelled at his arm hit the grass, taking the impact of the fall.

“Whoa,” Dillon said, crawling over to Dipper, clearly unscathed.  “You okay?”  Dipper bit his lip, shaking off his arm.

“Yeah,” he squeaked.  He cleared his throat, but no more words came out.  Dillon furrowed his brow and slid next to Dipper, gingerly grabbing his arm to assess it.  His cool touch calmed Dipper, and all at once Dillon was looking up at Dipper and their faces were less than a foot apart and they were looking into each other’s eyes and—

“I think you’re fine,” Dillon said with that same stupid grin that made Dipper melt.

“Good, good,” Dipper said absently, the smile dropping from his face.  After a silent, odd second, Dipper stood, grabbing Dillon’s hand to help him up, too.  “Hey, I should probably get back to the Shack.  I have to help my sister with... this, this school thing she’s doing.  It’s some weird AP carry-over project... I dunno.”

“Oh,” Dillon replied, oddly void of emotion.  “Well, um... hey!  What’s your number?  Maybe we can do something when you’re done?”

“Yes!” Dipper nearly screamed before catching himself and blushing.  “Well, uh, my number is... uh... here.”

Dipper extended his hand, and Dillon quickly handed the boy his phone, smiling.  “You can put whatever contact name you want,” Dillon said almost too quickly.  Dipper bit his lip as he typed, trying to control his nervous, jittery energy.  He typed his name, his hand hovering over the heart Emoji, before he decided against it and used the pine tree Emoji instead.  Memories of Bill suddenly flashed through his mind as he did so, and he ran a hand through his hair, handing the phone back to Dillon.

“See you tonight, hopefully,” Dipper said as he began to walk backwards, waving at the older boy.  Dillon’s eyes lit up, and he nodded quickly.  Dipper felt his face grow warm once more, and he opened his mouth to say something else when he ran into the porch stairs, nearly falling over.  He heard Dillon’s laughter ring out across the lawn, and he smiled again.

“Bye,” he muttered weakly before turning and running inside, through the gift shop, and straight upstairs into his bathroom.  He leaned against the counter and studied himself, taking note of his messy hair, tired eyes, and red cheeks.  He obviously didn’t have to help Mabel with anything; he just couldn’t spend any more time with Dillon before his heart would seriously burst.

“This is it,” Dipper muttered to his reflection.  “Don’t screw it up.”


	5. Exhilaration

Dipper looked down at his phone, checking over the text he had just received from Dillon for the twentieth time.  He leaned back on his bed, trying to think of an appropriate response.

**Hey!** It read, **Dillon here.  If you’re done helping Mabel with that project, it’s be awesome if we hung out again!  If you want to do something in, like, an hour, text me back.  I was thinking of heading down to the diner?  Your call.**

He smiled yet again, feeling a warm blush spread across his face.

**Hi Dillon** , Dipper began typing at lightning speed, **we just finished about an hour ago!  I’m up for meeting at the diner whenever, I just need to take a shower.**

He frowned, rereading his message, and suddenly erased the last line, typing something else in its place.

**I’m up for meeting at the diner whenever, I just need thirty minutes or so to get ready.**    **ALDKBJAWOIBWGSDFDNJMFMNBUOaG;ERIOAG**

He ran a hand through his hair, unable to think of a good way to end his message, and hit the phone against his face repeatedly.  He eventually erased the ending string of letters and sent what he had written so far.  Not a minute later, Dillon replied with a **Great!  See you in half an hour.**

Dipper paused for a moment, sitting on the edge of his bed, letting his brain process what was happening.  Was he going on a date?  No, they were surely just hanging out.  Unless...

_What if we kiss?_ Dipper suddenly thought.  _I’ve only ever kissed one other person, and it was Pacifica Northwest in some stupid game of Truth or Dare.  Oh, please, if this were a date, I’m pretty sure Dillon would’ve said so, Dipper.  Stop getting all stressed out about kissing a guy that obviously doesn’t want to be kissed_.

And then it hit him that he only had half an hour to get ready.  He bolted upright and nearly crashed into the bathroom, his body moving faster than his mind could process it.  He felt himself shaking with a nervous, pulsating energy as he jumped inside the shower and turned the water on, shivering as it heated up.

Without waiting, he reached for the shampoo and washed his hair quickly, repeating his methods with the conditioner.

_Wow_ , he thought, _this is the first time I’ve ever voluntarily taken a shower._   He smiled at the thought, rinsing the conditioner from his hair and grabbing a bar of soap blindly.

_You know, I could get used to this.  Going on dates—I mean, not-dates—makes me actually care about my image.  I actually think that I—_

He paused, sniffing the air.  “Wait…” he said aloud before looking down at the soap in his hands and realizing it was his sister’s.  He groaned loudly and reached for the nearby green bar of soap, double checking to make sure he was actually using the right one this time.

After another three minutes in the shower, Dipper turned off the water and quickly hopped out, reaching for the towel on the counter.  He dried his hair as best as he could and patted the rest of his body dry before looking in the mirror at himself and sighing.  His damp brown hair stuck to his forehead, covering his birthmark, and his brown eyes looked nervous, darting all around.

He willed himself to look away long enough to wrap the towel around his waist before walking out the door and through the hall, ending up in his room.  As soon as he got there he closed and locked the door, then darted for his phone, still in his towel.  He checked the time—he still had fifteen minutes to get to the diner.

He then looked at his messages and saw one more from Dillon.  It simply read **See you soon :)**

Dipper chuckled a little, reminding himself that Dillon was a human being and didn’t need Dipper to be _perfect_.  But still, he felt inclined to do his best, and he set the phone down slowly, sorting out what he could wear in his mind.

He finally settled for a black tee shirt and matching black jeans, and after he dried his hair one more time, he put his familiar blue pine tree cap on.  He then grabbed his phone again and hurried out the door, past his family in the kitchen.

“Where you going, Bro-Bro—“ Mabel began, but Dipper was already gone.  He wanted to run, jump, do anything to get to the diner faster, but instead he walked briskly along the dirt road towards the town.

Dipper stood outside the diner as soon as he arrived, taking a deep breath.  **I’m here** he texted Dillon before heading through the door.  The moment he walked into the diner and spotted a golden hat with a pine tree on it, he flat-out ran to the table and slid into the booth right beside Dillon, tackling him with a hug.

“Hey!” Dillon said, so surprised that his phone dropped from his hand and onto the table.  Dipper blushed, realizing he was nearly on top of Dillon, and quickly leaned back, reaching for the older boy’s phone.

“Whoops,” he said, holding the phone out to Dillon.  “Sorry about that.  Here you go.”  Dillon grew a deep shade of red, and Dipper shot him a confused look.

“What..?” he asked, glancing down at the phone.  And that’s when he saw the notification from his recent text to Dillon.  There was no longer a pine tree symbol next to his contact name, but rather a heart.  Dipper tried to contain a smile, but he couldn’t.  His cheeks flushed a pink color, and he set the phone back on the table.

“I… uh, I mean, I…” Dillon began, flustered.  Dipper took a moment to take in the older boy; his light brown hair, which was damp just like his own; his hazel eyes, searching for a reaction from Dipper; his bright red face, his half smile, _him_ …

Dipper reached for Dillon’s hand, still afraid that his suspicions could be wrong.  Dillon took his hand quickly, and that was it.  Dipper leaned in very slightly, their faces a foot apart, and Dillon moved forward to close the gap between them—

“Welcome to Greasy’s Diner!” came the voice of Lazy Susan.  Dipper turned quickly to greet her, and Dillon pulled back immediately.  “What can I get for you two boys today?”

“Uh…” came Dipper’s dumb response, still unable to process that they had been moments away from kissing.

“Can… can I get a plate of pizza?” Dillon asked, snapping out of his trance.  “We’ll split it.”

“Sure!  Anything to drink?”

“Water,” Dipper choked out.  He cleared his throat and turned to look at Dillon, who nodded in response.

“Make that two,” Dillon said, and Lazy Susan smiled and walked into the kitchen.  Dipper turned his entire body to face Dillon, who was still blushing like mad.

“So…” Dipper began, then noticed Dillon’s damp hair.  “Hey,” he chuckled, “you take night showers, too?”

“Yeah,” Dillon replied with a small laugh.  Dipper felt his heart speed up slightly as he thought of Dillon in the shower, and he could tell Dillon was thinking the same thing.

“I hope you’re okay with pizza,” Dillon finally said, placing a hand on the table.  “That’s the first thing that came to mind.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Dipper said, closing his eyes for a moment.  When he reopened them, Dillon was glancing out the window, his thoughts seemingly preoccupied.  The setting sun silhouetted Dillon beautifully, and Dipper wanted so badly to kiss him, to start over, to tell him how he actually felt rather than eating their feelings away with… pizza?

Dipper dropped one hand below the table and rested it on Dillon’s thigh, and Dillon turned to face Dipper quickly.  “To address the elephant in the room,” Dipper began, rubbing Dillon’s leg absently with his thumb, “I’m sure that kiss would have been pretty fucking awesome.  That being said, it might have been for the better that it didn’t happen.”  Dipper noticed Dillon’s face fall, and he quickly grabbed the boy’s shoulder.

“No no no,” Dipper started again, “I’m not saying that I don’t want to kiss you.  I’m saying… I don’t want our first kiss to be in Greasy’s Diner.”  Dillon looked up shyly, hiding behind his cap, and Dipper rolled his eyes.

“Ah, screw it,” Dipper finally said, and he leaned into Dillon, their lips meeting swiftly.  Dillon’s eyes were wide with surprise, and Dipper felt himself blush deeper than he ever had when he was with Dillon.  Slowly, he closed his eyes, his arms wrapping around Dillon’s body and his fingers running through his hair.  Though the booth made their positioning awkward, Dipper managed to press the boy against the wall, his mouth parting slightly, before they pulled away from each other.  Though the kiss couldn’t have lasted for more than five seconds, Dipper felt like it had been an eternity.

There was a pause as they stared at each other, neither of them moving a muscle other than their chests expanding rapidly.  Slowly, a smile crept onto Dillon’s face, turning into a laugh.  Dipper felt the same laughter bubble up inside of him, and he realized that he was giggling, too.  But it wasn’t because anything was funny—it was because everything was _real_.

“So,” Dipper began after their laughter.  “Maybe I’m a little gay.”  Dillon shoved Dipper’s shoulder slightly, and Dipper suddenly realized that he was still pressing Dillon against the wall.

“Oh, sorry,” Dipper said quickly and quietly, fumbling as he tried to give the older boy some space, but Dillon’s hand shot out to grab Dipper’s arm.

“Don’t,” Dillon pleaded in a way Dipper had never seen anyone plea.  “I like it when you’re close to me.”  Dipper smiled ecstatically, wrapping an arm around Dillon as they both used the wall for support.

“I like it, too,” Dipper said softly, breathing in the comforting smell of the older boy.  He could have stayed there for hours, and maybe they did, as they ate pizza, drank their water, and laughed.  Eventually, though, Dillon glanced outside the window.

“Ah, jeez, I think I’d better get home,” Dillon said grudgingly.  Dipper opened his eyes—finally realizing that they had been closed—and looked up at Dillon.  The boy’s hazel eyes burned into Dipper’s brown ones, and he suddenly felt like he was wasting the older boy’s time, making him late for some other appointment.  It was a strange feeling, and Dipper sat up nervously.

“Hey,” Dillon said, placing a hand discreetly atop Dipper’s underneath the table.  “Why the long face?  I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“You will?” Dipper asked, all traces of the strange feeling extinguished.  As soon as it had appeared, it had disappeared.  He smiled at Dillon as he slid out of the booth, allowing him to get out, as well.

“Well, sure!” Dillon chirped.  “And, if I remember correctly, someone has a birthday coming up in two days?”

Dipper felt his eyes widen, and he gulped.  “You… how did you know?”  Dillon paused for a moment, contemplating what to say.

“Black magic,” he finally decided, then chuckled.  “Nah.  I was talking to Wendy earlier this morning, and she filled me in.”

Dipper nodded, feeling himself blush yet again.  _What is this?  Like, the thirtieth time today that I’ve blushed because of this guy?  Come_ on _, Dipper._

Dillon reached for Dipper’s hand to walk out of the diner, but Dipper impulsively pulled his wrist away.  Seeing Dillon’s hurt expression, he quickly raised his hands to defend himself.

“No no no, sorry, I didn’t…” Dipper began, voice cracking.  “I don’t… I’m not a, uh, a huge fan of PDA.  That’s all.”

“But—“

“I’m sorry.  I know we kissed in the booth, but… at least there was a little privacy… hey, I’ll make it up to you.  My sister is having a few of her friends sleep over on Monday.  You know, since it’s our birthday.  I might not be allowed to invite you over then, but if you’re free during the day..?”

“I’d love to.”

“And then maybe you could spend the night later in the week,” Dipper rushed.

“I’d… love to,” Dillon said with a slight smile.  “Now, can I walk you home?”

Dipper frowned, remembering how Dillon had walked him back to the Mystery Shack the first time they met.  “Why don’t I walk _you_ home?” Dipper finally asked quizzically.  Dillon only chuckled, opening the door to the diner for Dipper.

“I live a minute away from here.  The least I can do it walk you to the path,” Dillon replied, sure of himself.  Dipper smiled, rolling his eyes sarcastically.

“Well, when you put it that way…” he said, allowing his voice to trail off.  Dillon skipped down the stairs of the diner in triumph, an innocent giddiness flooding his eyes.  Dipper held in a burst of happy laughter and followed the older boy.  They walked towards the path to the Shack slowly, making small conversation, each boy clearly distracted by the buzzing in their heads.

_I can’t believe it_ , Dipper thought to himself.  _I can’t believe he actually kissed me.  I can’t believe it actually happened.  I can’t believe he likes me._

Dillon’s hand brushed Dipper’s suddenly, catching Dipper’s attention, and he realized that they were somehow already at the path, right at the edge of the forest.  “Well,” Dipper began, looking down the road.  He sighed, then interlocked his fingers with Dillon’s.  Dillon raised an eyebrow at the younger boy, but allowed himself to be led by Dipper into the forest.  Well, they weren’t really deep into the forest, but they were a few layers of trees in.

Without warning, Dipper turned Dillon and pressed him up against a tree, his lips crashing against his.  He pulled away after about ten seconds, hands rubbing up and down Dillon’s sides.  “You don’t know how hard it was not to do that all day today,” Dipper breathed, not blushing or smiling just this once.  Dillon nodded slowly, then pulled Dipper back in by his shirt collar.

“I think I did,” he muttered, his lips never leaving Dipper’s.  Dipper closed his eyes, his lips desperately moving against the other boy’s.  He blamed this urgent desire on his lack of having sex, but he knew that his true craving to kiss this boy was due to some strange connection they shared, as if they hadn’t met just a day ago.

“By the way,” Dillon whispered, pulling away from the kiss at last, “you should really wear black more.  It looks nice on you.”  With that, Dipper backed up, allowing Dillon to stand.  The two boys locked eyes again and smiled, the corners of their mouths hinting at oncoming laughter.

“Maybe I will,” Dipper replied, slowly backing away, making sure he didn’t hit anything this time.

“See you tomorrow?” Dillon asked, watching Dipper walk away.

“Text me!” Dipper called with a nod, turning to walk up the path to the Mystery Shack.

The moment he walked in, Mabel ran up to him, grabbing him by the arm.  “Okay,” she said loudly, “ _what_ is going on with you?  It’s almost our birthday, Dipper!  We need to plan our party!”

“I, ah…” Dipper began, biting his lip.  “I was just planning on having a sleepover, like you.  Only, uh, with a guy, obviously, and… I dunno, maybe on Thursday?  Friday?”

Mabel looked at Dipper with a confused expression, tucking a strand of her short hair behind her ear.  “You mean to tell me that you have a _friend_ here in Gravity Falls?” she asked, only partially sarcastic.  Dipper rolled his eyes and pulled his arm away, smiling to himself.

“As a matter of fact, I do,” he called as he walked up the stairs.  “Maybe I’ll actually let you meet him, as long as you don’t scare him away!”

He trudged up to his room, closing the door behind him, and flopped onto his bed face-first.  He couldn’t help but smile, though he was exhausted and his head was whirring.  He eventually flipped onto his back and stared at the ceiling, feeling his eyes grow tired.

And suddenly he was in a monochrome bedroom with a single, glowing, triangular demon floating above him.

He tried to contain his scream, but it came out as a mangled yelp.  Once, just _once_ in his life, he wished Bill would leave him be.  But in Bill’s eyes, this was just another game to keep him busy.  Dipper opened his mouth to speak, but no noise came out, and he soon gave up.

“Wow, Pine Tree,” Bill said in a booming tone, contrasting greatly from Dillon’s, “have we got a _lot_ of catching up to do!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! So, I've been getting a LOT of positive feedback from this story, and I just wanted to say... thank you all so much! I tried to make this chapter longer than usual (or, rather, writing this chapter just couldn't be condensed into half a page), so please let me know if you like these longer chapters. It'd mean a lot! Again, thanks for the support. I love you guys ♥♥


	6. Disquietude

Dipper crawled back on his bed, pressing himself tightly against the headboard.  He felt his heart beating loudly in his chest, and he gripped his pillow underneath him.  The demon floated down so he was inches away from the boy, and Dipper felt his breathing cease completely.  It was when Bill began speaking that he flinched, closing one eye in response.

“So come on, tell me what all this fuss is.”

Dipper flattened himself against the headboard, trying desperately to get away from the demon.  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Dipper choked out, but Bill only floated closer.  Dipper felt Bill’s body brush sharply across his face, and he suddenly pushed the triangular demon away from him.  Bill was launched into the air, flying backwards in wide loops.

At once, he stopped himself midair, still upside down, and looked Dipper dead in the eye.  “Sure you do, kid,” Bill said lightly, though there was a hint at something far more menacing laced under his tone.

“If you’re talking about Dillon, then I don’t know why—“ Dipper began, but he was cut off by his throat closing up.

“Oh, it’s very simple, Pine Tree,” Bill stated as he slowly turned himself right-side up and made his way back to Dipper.  Again, he was only inches away from the boy’s face.

“I want to possess you,” he said in a deep, distorted voice.  Dipper visibly jumped, feeling his heart spike, and wondered if he might pass out, before he remembered that he was in the Mindscape.

 _Is that even possible?_ He wondered.  _Can I pass out in the Mindscape?  Oh, great, Dipper, a demon just told you he wants to possess you and_ this _is what you’re worried about.  And since when did I get so self-degrading and sarcastic?  Man, I—_

“Stop thinking!” Bill shouted suddenly, and Dipper flinched once more.  “Jeez, kid, your thoughts are _annoying_.  And to answer your question, you’ve been like this for a solid two years, at least.  It was always there, but your destructive habits brought your self-loathing upon yourself.”

“You sound awfully happy for someone who’s trying to ruin my life,” Dipper retorted, gaining his confidence back.  “And stop reading my mind!  It’s weird, and—and invasive, okay?”  Bill responded with a quick laugh before floating backwards and into the air once more, seemingly lost in thought.

“What?” Dipper finally asked, remembering Bill’s remark about possession.

“Well, I figured I might as well tell you,” Bill said slowly.  Dipper raised an eyebrow, still clutching only his pillow but feigning curiosity and boredom.  Of course, he was sure Bill knew exactly what he was doing.

“Tell me what?” Dipper asked slowly.  Bill’s eye suddenly glowed red, and within half a second the demon had grown to the size of the room, filling Dipper’s vision with just him.

“I don’t want to possess your body.  I want to possess _you_.  I want to own you, kid, and I _have_ owned you for a very long time.  But if this Dillon kid gets in the way of anything, then I have big plans for his future.”

Dipper felt the color drain from his face.  Bill couldn’t possibly hurt someone he loved _again_ , could he?

“No,” Dipper said, void of emotion.  “No, no, no, no, no, no, _no_.  You can’t… whatever you do… _please_ , Bill, I…”

Bill looked bored, watching Dipper squirm.  After another minute of his worried mumbling, Bill held up a hand to silence him.  Dipper stopped talking, but his lips still quivered slightly, as if he were ready to begin speaking again at any given moment.

“Hey, Pine Tree,” Bill said bluntly, “stop whining.  As long as this boy doesn’t get in my way, he’ll be fine.”

“But how—“

“Oh, look at this.  It’s already dawn.  Bye, kid!”

Dipper felt his chest aching, and he was sure that he had only been in the Mindscape for four, maybe five minutes.  He hated Bill and his manipulative tricks.  He hated the Mindscape.  He hated the way Bill could make him feel more terrified than anyone or anything in the world.  And he absolutely hated, hated, _hated_ putting Dillon in danger.

Suddenly, in a flash of white light, the demon was gone, and Dipper was in a room of color again.  He was sweating, and he could feel his heart beating quicker than ever before.

Immediately, he sat up in his bed and grabbed his phone on his nightstand, checking to see if he had any messages from Dillon.  There were a few from Mabel, one from his dad… and one from Dillon.

 **Hi** , it read, **idk if you’re busy today, but if you’re not we should totally go see a movie.  Unless you’ve seen them, which wouldn’t be surprising bc there are like three.  But anyway.  Yeah.  Text me back if you get this?  haha**

Dipper sighed with relief as he saw that the message was sent ten minutes ago, at 6:25.  He smiled subconsciously as he texted back a simple **Just hopping in the shower now.  Sounds good, I haven’t seen any movies.  You can choose.  What are the show times for each one?**

After he pressed send, he smacked himself on the forehead.  He had _just_ taken a shower last night.  Although, as he climbed out of bed and felt his shirt sticking to him from his sweat, he decided another shower might be a good idea.

He clambered out of his room, still half-asleep, and made his way to the shower, fighting off the tired feeling that was weighing him down.  It dawned on him, as he stripped off his pajamas and began to shower, that he should tell Mabel about his dream with Bill.  If he didn’t, the dark circles under his eyes would give him away anyway.  Still, he decided against it, realizing that he would then have to explain how Dillon came into play.

As he began to scrub his body, the hot water hitting his back, he wondered idly exactly what he and Dillon were.  They obviously weren’t dating… were they?  No, they couldn’t be.  If it wasn’t a direct, explicit relationship, Dipper decided, then it wasn’t a relationship at all.  Feeling slightly better—but still nervous about Bill’s tactics—he finished up in the shower and grabbed a towel, patting his body down quickly.  He wrapped the towel around his waist and looked at himself in the mirror, examining his drooping eyes.

He noticed Mabel’s foundation on the counter near the sink and hesitantly grabbed it, popping the lid off of it to reveal a creamy sort of substance.  With a sigh, he dabbed his finger against it, then proceeded to swipe it across his face, right under each eye.  He couldn’t help but feel sneaky, like he was trying too hard to keep a secret.  Regardless, he snapped the lid back on and placed it back where it was.  After another quick inspection of himself in the mirror, he smiled and left the room, confident in his newly hidden eye bags.

He chuckled to himself as he walked dumbly into his room, picking the first outfit he could find—a navy blue shirt and black jeans.  _Am I seriously confident in eye bags?_ He wondered.  _Maybe girls are onto this stuff when they put makeup on every day._   He shrugged and pulled his clothes on, topping it off with his blue pine tree cap.  He sighed and flopped onto his bed again when his phone made a faint dinging noise.  He reached out to his nightstand and grabbed it, happy to see a message from Dillon.

**Nice!  The soonest movie is at 9, but it’s horror.  There’s a mystery movie at 9:30, if you’re into that.  Then there’s some weird scifi one at 11, but I’ll be honest, I’m not a scifi fan.**

Dipper bit his lip as he thought.  While he would love to see a mystery movie, he wanted to see Dillon much sooner, and it was only 6:52.

 **The horror movie is great** , Dipper texted back, **when do you want to meet?**

He stared at his phone for a minute before he saw Dillon typing.  Dipper realized he was still biting his lip, and he relaxed his muscles, finally realizing how tense he was.  A new message popped up from the older boy, and Dipper quickly scanned over it.

**Awesome, maybe around 7:30?  8?  I was thinking about getting some breakfast.  But if you’ve already eaten that’s cool**

Dipper rolled his eyes at himself, finding it amusing that this was the earliest he had been up all summer.  Of course he hadn’t eaten.  He shot back a quick **Sounds great, Greasy’s Diner again?** And placed his phone back on the nightstand and closed his eyes, running his hands through his hair.  He knew he desperately needed sleep, but he didn’t trust himself to take a nap now, especially with Bill in his mind.  He decided he would come home right after the movie and sleep.

His phone dinged again, and all it said was **Yup**.  Dipper unlocked his phone and began typing a response as he sat up, making his way to his bedroom door.

 **See you at 7:30** , he replied before turning his ringer off, sliding his phone in his pocket, and creeping downstairs.  He made his way to the kitchen and rummaged for a piece of paper and a pen, instead settling for a napkin and pencil.

“Went to go watch a movie,” he muttered aloud as he wrote, “be back around noon.  Dipper.”  He placed the note on the kitchen table and headed out the front door, surprised by the darkness outside.  He hummed to himself as he walked along the path to the town, though underneath his happy exterior he felt fear bubbling up inside of him due to what was to come.

 _Don’t think about that right now_ , he thought as he began weaving loosely through trees bordering the path.  _You’re going to the movies with an amazing boy.  Get a hold of yourself._   And with that, he began his tread down the muddy dirt to Greasy’s Diner, pushing all thoughts of Bill from his mind.

For the time being, at least.


	7. Pruriency

It was Dipper who arrived first, playing with his thumbs as he struggled not to check his phone for messages every few seconds.  Eventually, he gave into his temptation and pressed the home button, once again seeing a blank screen staring back at him.  He sighed and leaned back in the booth right before he felt a hand on his shoulder.  He turned and smiled, seeing the bright eyes of Dillon.

“Hi!” Dillon chirped, sliding into the booth across from Dipper.  Dipper discreetly wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans and smiled back shyly, still nervous around the boy.

“Hey,” Dipper replied with a nervous chuckle, and Dillon leaned back in the booth in response.  Dipper quickly diverted his gaze to the menu propped open in front of him on the table, examining the prices of pancakes.

“Hey,” Dillon said, quickly leaning forward once more, pulling Dipper’s focus.  “I’m treating us to breakfast, okay?”

“No—” Dipper began, leaning forward as well, but was cut off by a quick peck of a kiss.

“Wha—why—” Dipper started to mutter, feeling flustered.  He had _told_ Dillon he wasn’t a fan of PDA, so why was the older boy persistent?  Dipper jolted backwards into his seat, feeling a deep blush envelop his face.

“Why the red cheeks, Dip?” Dillon teased playfully, leaning back as well.  It was then that Lazy Susan appeared to take their orders, and Dipper silently thanked fate for allowing him a way out of answering such a blatantly obvious yet painstakingly embarrassing question.

 

Dipper and Dillon strode out of the diner, arms linked subtly, and made their way to the movies.  When they arrived, Dipper pulled out his wallet and held up a hand before Dillon could object.  “I let you pay for breakfast,” he said quickly, fumbling with the wallet before he pulled out a few five dollar bills.  “The least you can let me do is pay for the movies.”

Dillon rolled his eyes and linked arms with Dipper again, refusing to let go even when Dipper paid the usher and attempted to put his wallet back in his pocket.  Dipper sighed and eventually decided to just hold it until they got into the theater, still annoyed by the amount of affection Dillon was showing in public.

“Hey,” Dipper said quickly, turning so he was out of the boy’s grasp.  “I’m gonna get us some popcorn.  Wanna save me a seat inside the theater?”  Dillon smiled and nodded, then turned to go walk into the theater.  The moment he was out of sight, Dipper sighed and pulled another five dollar bill from his wallet, walking up to the counter to purchase snacks.

“Hello,” came the dull drone of a familiar voice, and Dipper looked up to see Soos mimicking a robotic stance.  “How. Can. I. help. You. today?”

“Soos!” Dipper said loudly, and Soos finally dropped the “robot” act, smiling back at Dipper.

“Whaddup, man?” he said, extending his hand for a fist bump.  Dipper gladly reciprocated, glad to see a familiar face.  Ever since Stan had laid Soos off last year due to budget cuts, Dipper hadn’t seen much of him.

“Not much, just… just getting some popcorn,” Dipper replied lamely, an airy laugh filling up the silence after he spoke.

“Right, right,” Soos said, adjusting his bright yellow _Royal Ragtime Theatre_ cap and turning behind him to the popcorn machine.  While he waited, Dipper idly scanned the room, taking in the atmosphere, before he felt an odd weight settle in his chest.  There were couples _everywhere_.  No matter where he turned, he saw at least one couple somewhere.  He turned back toward the counter and tapped his fingers on it, refusing to look anywhere but straight ahead.

Did Dillon bring him here to be a couple?  They _weren’t_ a couple… were they?  _No_ , Dipper decided as Soos turned back to him, hands full of a bucket of steaming popcorn, _he would have been more explicit.  He wouldn’t have just brought be here on a date without telling me it_ was _a date._

As Dipper continued to think, Soos tipped his cap to the boy.  “One dollar is your change,” he said with faux officiality.  Dipper snapped out of his trance long enough to grab the popcorn and dollar, then shot Soos a smile before heading toward the screening room, anxious to see if this _was_ , in fact, a date.

Dillon noticed Dipper the moment he walked in, and he raised his hand above the crowd, hoping to get the younger boy’s attention.  Meanwhile, Dipper’s eyes scanned the crowd, finally coming to rest on Dillon’s hand waving around from the back of the theater.  Feeling himself blush as Dillon called his name, he hurried toward the back of the theater where the older boy sat.

“Shhh,” Dipper hissed as he slid into the seat next to him.  Dillon only shrugged, grabbing a handful of popcorn from Dipper’s bucket, which was resting on his lap. 

“Hey,” Dipper began, turning his head to Dillon.  Dillon’s eyes brightened slightly at the dark tone in Dipper’s voice, and he rested a hand on Dipper’s arm.  Dipper looked closely at Dillon’s expression, unable to decipher it.  “I just wanted, to uh, tell you something…” he began, eyes darting away for a fraction of a second.  “Well, I mean, I’d, uh, I need to ask you—I want to ask you something…”

Dipper felt Dillon tense, and he turned to look at his face quickly.  He couldn’t identify it—Dillon was unreadable, though his expressions were definitely versatile.

“This isn’t a date, is it?” Dipper asked, his words stumbling over one another.  “I mean, I really like you, but I just don’t want to rush intoanythingandIdon’tthinkthatI—”

He was cut off by a sharp laugh from Dillon.  Puzzled, he drew away from the boy before Dillon grabbed his chin and kissed him quickly once more before sliding away into his own seat.  “That’s all you wanted to ask?  God, Dipper, I thought you were going to say something serious!”  Dillon paused a beat before adding, “No, of course this isn’t a date.”

Dipper felt relief flood him as he realized how scared he was to commit to anyone.  “Okay,” Dipper breathed, turning his attention to the screen.  They went without talking for the entire movie, which Dipper didn’t mind, although he _was_ embarrassed when he screamed and grabbed Dillon’s hand during the movie… three times.

It was once the movie ended that Dillon turned to Dipper and rose from his seat, politely grabbing Dipper’s arm as they exited the theater.  “I enjoyed that,” Dillon said distantly, as if he weren’t completely talking to Dipper.

“Me, too,” Dipper said as he held the door open for Dillon.  Dillon smiled in return.

“Well, I have to get back to my house to help my parents with some stuff for the garage sale,” Dillon said in a dull tone.  Dipper felt his heart sink—just because he didn’t want to date Dillon certainly didn’t mean that he didn’t like him.  Did he not realize that?

“Oh,” Dipper finally said, not even bothering to hide the disappointment in his tone.  Dillon pulled Dipper in for a goodbye hug before Dipper held up his hands, pushing Dillon away lightly.

“Wait,” Dipper began, “what if I came over to help, too?  I mean, I still haven’t met your parents, and—”

“No can do, Dip,” Dillon replied, flicking Dipper’s cap.  “Don’t you have to help Mabel with that project of hers?”  Dipper internally smacked himself, regretting making up such a lame excuse earlier.

“Right,” he muttered, adjusting his hat.  This time, he accepted Dillon’s goodbye hug.  “Goodbye,” he said with a small smile, and Dillon waved before turning and walking down the path toward town.  Dipper turned and began to walk down the path to the Mystery Shack before he turned once more to catch a glimpse of Dillon, hoping to at least figure out where the boy lived.  But when he turned to look, he was nowhere in sight.  With a sigh, he began the walk back to his great uncle’s house.  It was when he was already on the path, merely three minutes away from the Shack, that he realized Dillon hadn’t walked him home today.  He hadn’t even offered.

 _Shit_ , Dipper thought, picking up his pace.  _I must have hurt his feelings_.  Dipper pulled his phone from his pocket and checked the time.  It was twelve in the afternoon—he knew he shouldn’t be able to fall asleep for a very long time, but the previous night’s journey to the Mindscape left him feeling drained.

He arrived at the front door in a minute’s time, hurrying into the kitchen in hopes of finding Mabel.  He called out her name, but he couldn’t find her anywhere in the house.  He needed someone to talk to about his not-date with Dillon and how to fix what he had damaged with his words.  After five solid minutes of searching for her, though, he gave up, retreating upstairs and into his room.

He groaned as he laid back on his bed, his eyes heavy.  He hadn’t gotten much sleep last night, but his mind seemed to be whirring much too quickly.  He closed his eyes and breathed heavily, counting how long it took him to inhale and how long it took to exhale.  Though at first it felt as if he were going crazy counting breath patterns, he soon fell into a rhythm, relaxing his body.  Slowly, he felt his mind begin to drift away, and he let himself go.

 

His dream was peaceful, just him lying in the grass near a creek he had never seen before.  The rushing water seemed much calmer than the hell that was waging war within his mind.  Suddenly, breaking through the tranquility like a blade, a clear voice came ringing across the bank.

“Dipper!” Dillon called, and the younger boy sat up quickly, smiling a toothy grin.  Dillon jogged toward him, and Dipper scrambled to stand, wanting so badly to hug him again and again and never let go.  They were closer by the second; ten feet away, eight, five, two...

Suddenly, as Dipper’s hand was inches away from grazing Dillon’s arm, the older boy leapt back, body twisting as if being moved involuntarily.  Without warning, Dillon’s body snapped, and Dipper felt panic bubbling up from his stomach.  He knew it was a dream, it had to be a dream, but it was still terrible to see those hazel eyes flashing in pain.  As Dipper opened his mouth to scream, the world suddenly went blank.  White walls surrounded him, and his breathing hitched as he heard another familiar voice.

“See, kid?” the demon asked, floating down from above Dipper.  He jumped, staring at the small triangular body of Bill.

“That’s what happens when people get in my way.  Got it?”  Dipper bit his lip and nodded.  He tried to think of something clever to say, but only a few select words were coming to mind.  He decided to try to piece them together— _anything_ to protect that boy.

“We—Dillon a-and I—aren’t really... we don’t... he’s mad at me right now, B-Bill.”  The demon seemed pleased, his eye relaxed as if calm.  Dare Dipper say he looked... content?

“I know,” Bill replied, hands behind his back, as he floated up to Dipper’s face, inches away.  “Your love life isn’t a secret, kid.  Now tell me, what exactly does this boy do for you that you need him so much?”

Dipper averted his gaze, looking at his shoes as he spoke.  “Well, I, uh, he... _we_ love each other.  So I guess, I mean... yeah.”

“But Pine Tree, why do you _need_ him?”  Bill’s eye flashed red as he spoke, and Dipper bit his lip, wincing.

“I _love_ him.  He needs my love, and I need his love.”

“Is that all?” Bill asked quizzically, seeming to be calculating something.

“Yes, Bill,” Dipper replied curtly, finally looking up to meet the demon’s gaze.  “I know you wouldn’t understand, but it’s that simple.”

“Love,” Bill echoed, voice filling the empty space.  “Physical, isn’t it?”

Dipper furrowed his brow as he spoke.  “Well, I guess physical love is a part of it.  I mean, kissing and stuff.  I mean, not like we’ve _done_ other stuff, but—”

“And whose choice is that?” Bill asked, his voice now certain and commanding.

“M-mine, I guess...” Dipper replied.  “But it’s not like I don’t want to do other stuff, I just don’t want to do it in _public_ , and I don’t kn-know why he can’t comprehend that—”

Bill snapped his fingers, and in an instant, Dipper felt as if he were in a movie.  He couldn’t tell whether it was a horror movie, a Disney movie, or something in between, but he was in awe.  Standing in the demon’s place was a pale boy wearing a black shirt, tight jeans, and a thin green jacket.  His eyes glowed yellow—well, his one eye that wasn’t covered by his eyepatch—and golden-brown hair flopped into his face.  His smile was wicked, and he looked at Dipper like he was prey.

“Thought I couldn’t make a meatsack of my own?” the strange figure asked, and Dipper stood frozen, realization hitting him like a ton of bricks.

“Relax,” Bill breathed as he walked forward slowly.  His thin frame moved much too fluidly for a demon, and Dipper realized that this couldn’t have been the first time he had tried to walk in it.

“I constructed a human body of my very own, just for you!” he chirped, his hand brushing Dipper’s cheek.  “It was time-consuming, especially figuring out each—” he tapped Dipper’s nose, “and every—” his hand moved to Dipper’s shoulder, “organ.”  His eyes darted down to his pants, and he laughed as he saw Dipper’s cheeks go red.  In a fluid motion his hand moved to Dipper’s chin and he pulled it up.  He was at least two inches taller than Dipper, and Dipper felt an unfamiliar feeling in his stomach.  It wasn’t fear, it wasn’t anxiety, and it wasn’t love.  It felt almost as if it were a combination of all three.

 _No_ , Dipper thought.  _There is no way I love a demon.  I love Dillon—Bill is the opposite of him._

“It’s called lust, kid,” Bill whispered into his ear, causing a tingling feeling in a location slightly lower than Dipper’s stomach.  Dipper shifted his weight from one foot from the other.  He knew this was the Mindscape and was obviously just another dream, but he couldn’t help himself.  He liked it.

Bill pressed his lips onto Dipper’s jaw, right at the curve below his ear, and Dipper let out a whimper before containing himself.  Of course the demon knew every single one of his weak spots; after all, he had watched him for years.  The demon sucked roughly on his skin, trailing his mouth down his neck and up his jaw before returning to the same spot, causing Dipper’s breathing to grow heavier.

“S-stop,” Dipper whined weakly, but Bill only smirked and pulled away for a second, examining Dipper’s flushed face.

“Physical love,” Bill began, “is hardly love at all.  As is emotional love.  You know why?”  Dipper shook his head, feeling guilty that he wanted Bill to stop talking and continue kissing him. 

“It’s because love is unattainable,” Bill went on.  “A construct, if you will.  There will always be a flaw, a crack, an error... and you know why?”

“Because those who think love exists are ignorant and blindsided by the façade of perfection,” Dipper replied quickly, realizing what Bill was getting at.

“Precisely,” Bill replied, seeming only mildly surprised.  He cleared his throat and went on, taking a step back from Dipper.  “Now,” he said, “tell me what you think of physical love.”

“I don’t care what it’s supposed to mean or how you use it,” Dipper said, words tumbling out, as he stepped toward the demon-turned-human.  “I know what it means to me, and that’s really all I give a fuck about.”

He reached up to cup Bill’s face in his hands, an attempt to finally kiss him on the lips, but Bill smirked and grabbed the boy’s wrist, quickly raising him off of the ground.  Dipper dangled in Bill’s grasp, thrashing for a moment before pausing to look into the eye of his captor.  “Good,” Bill whispered with a wink, and he raised his free hand, snapping with finality.

 

Dipper woke from his dream with a shiver running down his spine, and he looked quickly at the clock.  It read 8:20, meaning he had been in the Mindscape for eight hours.  The moonlight dimly illuminated the room, and Dipper groaned, lying back on his bed.  Not ten seconds later, Mabel crashed through the door, flooding the room with light and the wafting smell of pasta from downstairs.

“Come on down, Dip, Stan’s making mac and cheese,” she said with a smile.  Dipper managed to muster a smile and nod.

“Great, be right down,” he choked as Mabel skipped out of the room.  The moment he heard her feet move down the stairs, he closed his eyes again.

“Shit.”


	8. Concupiscence

“You’re awfully quiet today, kid,” Stan mumbled, pasta filling his mouth to the point of nearly rendering him incomprehensible.  Dipper chewed slowly and swallowed before looking his great uncle in the eye.

“Yeah,” he replied, dragging the word out as he thought of a proper response.  “I wasn’t feeling well earlier, so I took a nap.  I guess I’m still waking up.”

Mabel shifted in her chair, looking down at her lap, and Dipper bit the inside of cheek.  He could tell something was bothering her, but he didn’t have the drive to be a supportive big brother.  Right now, he needed to focus on what Bill had been messing around with in his head.

“You know, I’m still not feeling up to it,” Dipper muttered, pushing his chair out from the table.  “Do we have any sleep medicine?”  Mabel and Stan looked at him with mild interest playing across their faces.

“Sure, in the cupboard to the right of the fridge,” Stan said after a moment of hesitation.  “Why?”  Dipper rummaged through the cupboard, speaking over his shoulder.

“I told you,” he called, “I’m just not feeling well.”  He grabbed a bottle with a suspicious label and scanned it over before holding it over his head.  “This it?” he asked, earning a chuckle from Stan.

“If you want it to be,” Stan replied, a smile playing across his face.  “I’ve got so many knockoff drugs, I can’t tell you which is which.”  Dipper forced a laugh and set the bottle down on the counter, sighing to himself.  His eyes glazed over after standing there a moment, and he got lost in his own thoughts.

 _What’s going on?_ He wondered.  _My birthday is right around the corner.  All I need to focus on right now is making sure I survive past then_.

He jumped when he felt his sister’s hand on his shoulder.  “Agh!” he yelped, spinning around quickly.  “Mabel, what do you want?”

“Oh,” Mabel said dully, hand idly floating in midair where Dipper’s shoulder had been a mere second ago.  “Sorry if you’re busy.”  Dipper sighed and ran a hand through his hair, staring at his shoes.

“No,” he breathed, “I’m not.  Sorry, I just... I’m...”

“Hey, bro,” Mabel responded, her hand finally dropping to her side.  “It’s cool.  It’s almost our birthday.  I know this is a special time for you.  It’s a special time for all of us.”  Dipper’s head shot up, and he stared directly into Mabel’s eyes.

“No,” he replied harshly.  “It’s not ‘ _cool_.’  Stanford was our great uncle, too, you know.  Bill didn’t kill him in some major, poetic, sci-fi fight.  Bill killed him for fun.”  Dipper’s voice rose with each word he spoke.  “Bill didn’t have a reason to kill him!  If our great uncle had died for a cause, maybe it would be okay.  Maybe I’d even have come to terms with it.  But he didn’t!  He didn’t die for a reason at all!  He was murdered, Mabel.  He was murdered by a goddamn demon, and I’ll be damned if this is all we’re gonna do!  If all we’re gonna do is vaguely mention him in passing, or use him as an excuse for disconnection, and not even mention his fucking _name_ —”

“Dipper,” came the familiar, husky voice of Stanley.  Dipper turned his head slightly and peered past his sister to see him standing in the doorway.  “I think you’ve made your point.  And you know I don’t tolerate that kind of language under my roof.”

Dipper took a step back, resting his hands on the counter.  He looked from the sad, troubled face of his sister to the stern, disappointed face of his great uncle and sighed in disbelief.

“I can’t believe it,” Dipper muttered, more to himself than to his family.  “He died two years ago, and _this_ is how you want to remember him.  As a person in a point in time.”  Dipper’s hand wrapped around the bottle of pills.  “This isn’t just about him anymore.  I loved him.  And maybe the two of you weren’t as close to him as I was, but I know damn well that he was more than just another statistic.”

Stan lowered his head and rubbed his eyes, clearly just wanting the discussion to be over.  Dipper waited a moment for a response, but all he got was the troubling look of his sister that he could no longer decipher.

“Ugh!” he groaned, and with a sense of finality, he turned and ran out the screen door, the bottle of pills clasped tightly in his hand.  The door slammed shut behind him, cold, hard rain and fierce winds closing it almost immediately.  He looked up only once, and that was to see where he was running to.  “Forest it is,” he muttered before lowering his head and engaging in a full-on sprint.  His shirt did little to shield the rain from his body, and by the time he had arrived underneath the umbrella of pine trees, he was already drenched.  Still, he chuckled, the sharp air awakening his senses.

“Alright,” he muttered, his voice shaking as he crouched down next to a rock.  He fumbled with the bottle for a moment before popping the cap off and pouring out three oval-shaped white pills into his hand.  They didn’t look much like sleeping pills, but at this rate, Dipper was sure that they would be strong enough to put him under.

He tilted his head back and downed the pills, one by one.  He leaned his body back and closed his eyes, allowing his body to relax.  He focused on the night air, the sound of rustling trees and bushes, and waited for waves of either euphoria, pain, or drowsiness to hit him.  The minutes ticked on, and he felt himself growing agitated as the pills weren’t doing anything to his body.  Furrowing his brow, Dipper sighed loudly and opened his eyes in frustration, only to gasp slightly and jump where he was sitting.  Everything around him was a dull, pale, gray color, other than the man sitting across from him, staring intently.

“Bill!” Dipper yelled, trying to sound upset.  Instead, it came out in a relieved tone.

“Heya, kid,” Bill replied, leaning his elbows onto his knees and his face onto his hands.  “Fun time we had during our last visit, huh?”

Dipper averted his eyes, looking at the patch of grass near his foot rather than at the demon.  “Yeah,” Dipper finally replied, hating to admit it but knowing he wanted more.

“Well,” Bill said with a sing-song tone in his voice.  “There’s always more where that came from!”

Dipper instinctively bit his lip.  “You sound awfully cheery for someone who wants to kill me,” he retorted, feeling electricity course through his body.  He tried to force it away, but all he could feel was tension and excitement building up inside of him.

“Hey, now,” Bill said, swiftly moving from sitting cross-legged to leaning back on his heels, “I wouldn’t say I want to _kill_ you.”  He moved from his position on the grass, crawling over until he was nearly on top of Dipper.

“W-What do you want to do, then?” Dipper asked, his breath hitching in his throat.  He could feel Bill’s warm breath on his neck, and suddenly couldn’t ignore the mounting pressure building underneath his jeans.  It was suddenly uncomfortable, and he wished he could just unzip his pants to give himself a bit more room.

Bill moved without warning, his teeth suddenly sinking into the boy’s neck.  Dipper arched his back slightly, creating more friction beneath his pants, and all of a sudden he felt his hips grinding against Bill’s.  His head spun, all of the sensations coursing through his body overwhelming him.

“Ah—ahh,” Dipper moaned as he felt Bill’s hand trace down his shirt, stopping at the waistband of his jeans.  He knew he didn’t want this—he _couldn’t_ want this—but the feeling of desire overtook him, and he pressed his hips into Bill’s hand, hoping to get the message across.

Bill chuckled, pulling back for a moment to admire the sweating, panting Dipper Pines beneath him.  Dipper groaned in protest.

“I wish you would stop doing that, you know,” Dipper said harshly, grabbing Bill’s hand and guiding it to the bulge in his pants.

“Doing what?” Bill questioned, absently stroking the fabric.  The sensation was soft, but it sent waves of pleasure through Dipper nonetheless.  He stifled a moan before replying.

“Starting, and th… then stopping,” he panted.  He once again ground his hips into Bill’s hand, finally causing Bill to apply more pressure and stroke harder, longer strokes.  Dipper’s head titled back, and he sighed.

“Ohh,” Bill replied sarcastically before slipping a hand under Dipper’s boxers.  The demon’s warm hand caught Dipper off-guard, and he couldn’t suppress a moan.  Bill’s hand worked quickly, starting off softly and quickly building momentum.  His strokes grew longer and his grip became firmer the longer time went on, and not even a minute later, Dipper felt a pressure beginning to build ever so slightly in a space just below his stomach.

“Bill—” Dipper began, but he was cut off abruptly by Bill moving his hand back from his pants and sitting back on his heels.  Just as quickly as the pressure had begun to build up, it disappeared.

“Hey,” Dipper whined, panting heavily.  “I was almost…”

“You mean like that?” Bill asked with a smirk.  Dipper shot a confused look his way before the puzzle pieces clicked.

“Stopping and then starting…” Dipper muttered, trailing off.  He leaned his head back, still overwhelmed, and closed his eyes.  He stopped for a second, just taking the situation in.  His first ever sexual experience had just occurred.  In a very real dream.  With a demon.

“You know, Bill,” he began, opening his eyes—and then stopped.  He was no longer in a monochrome world.  Fireflies danced along the edges of the nearby meadow.  The moon shone brightly through the tops of the trees.  Dipper was alone.  And Bill was gone.


End file.
